


only one

by taylocrow



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love Triangle, Modernish Royalty AU, Sansa is Queen in the North, kinda 60s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22902904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylocrow/pseuds/taylocrow
Summary: She’s the Princess of Westeros and the Queen of his heart.Jon Snow works as private secretary to King Eddard and falls for his daughter, the heir to the throne, completely off limits.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 90
Kudos: 196





	1. gilded

**Author's Note:**

> hodge podge of ASOIAF royalty and The Crown I guess? Idk this bug bit me and wouldn’t let me go.

A melancholy melody plays through Jon’s record as his fingers tighten their grip on Sansa’s fiery hair. On cue, she hums around his dick and flattens her tongue just the way he likes. A husky groan falls from his lips, egging her on. She takes as much of him as she can in her mouth and starts to bob her head quickly. Jon’s breath quickens and an expletive slips out. Normally, she’d groan and hasten him for such language, but at this moment it just makes her all the more wet for him. 

Jon pulls her head back, spits in her mouth, and her lips are right back on him in one fluid movement. Sansa’s a good girl, she’ll do as he says. After all, she was born and bred to perform. Her first public event was at three days old in her mother’s arms as her parents waved to the press and public. The people had been cheering for their princess since then, and she’d never been one to disappoint. 

“I’m gunna fucking cum, I’m—“ Jon cuts himself off with a grunt and pulls Sansa off of him so he can finish across her pretty face. He loves the way she looks after he’s painted her with something all his. Sansa licks at her lips eagerly and grins up at him. There’s a naughty twinkle in her eye as she wipes her cheeks and Jon passes her his handkerchief. 

“What?” He watches her clean herself up in one quick wipe. 

“Five, four….” Sansa buttons his dress pants and stands on her feet. “Three, two…” She hands him back the navy silk stained with his cum. “One.” 

“Hello, Jon.” King Eddard the Second, known lovingly as Ned amongst his family and friends, walks through the doorway of Jon’s office with his assistant at his heels. “Oh darling, I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“Hi Daddy!” Sansa stands tall alongside Jon’s bow and gives her father a brisk hug. “Almost time to get ready for riding.” 

Sansa looks at pink faced Jon and smirks. 

Ned straightens his suit and nods along, “Don’t be too long darling, the dinner will start at 6:00 sharp.” 

“Of course. See you there.” Sansa kisses his cheek and Ned gives her a loving pat on the head as she does so. Sansa turns around before exiting and does a quick curtsy, catching Jon’s eye while doing so, and gives him a flirty wink. 

With that, she’s out the door and Jon is stuffing his handkerchief in his pant pocket as his boss lists off what needs to be done tonight and who all is confirmed to be attending. 

“Jon, be sure to get another pocket square before meal time. You’ll seem untidy.” Ned nods at his bare pocket. 

Jon’s cheeks flame red, “Yes sir.”

-

Sapphires and diamonds dance atop Sansa’s head as she corners Jon in the east wing corridor of Winterfell Palace. “You’re about to be late.” Jon pleads as Sansa leans in for a kiss. 

There’s bright lipstick painted on her plump pout and Jon knows he’s helpless against her fluttering eyelashes. He grants her a few more kisses before surrendering to one long, deep one. Sansa pulls away breathless, “How do I look?” 

“Beautiful as ever,” Jon pulls her in for another kiss and gives her a spin. Sansa lets out a magical tinkle of laughter and she’s off to the state dinner. Her icy blue ball gown matches the same haunting shade of her eyes, white gloves are pulled to her elbows donning a sapphire bracelet and three diamond rings, and her tiara balances perfectly her auburn hair. 

She’s the princess of Westeros and the queen of his heart. 

-

  
  


Sansa is with her mother and sister in Riverrun when he has to make the call. They are more than likely playing croquette while their afternoon tea is prepared in the kitchens of their countryside home. Sansa’s younger sister, Princess Arya, is definitely cheating the game and sneaking whiskey. 

Jon swallows when the phone rings for the fifth time and then a quiet voice answers, “Riverrun Estate.” 

“The King is dead.” 

  
  


-

  
  


Sansa’s chin is held high as she descends the aisle of the Godswood Chapel. An angelic chorus belts out an ancient sound as she is met toe to toe with the magnificent heart tree. There, before it’s glory, is a magnificent wooden throne carved from old weirwood trees. In the seat top is Ned’s crown, the Stark crown, now Sansa’s. 

Benjen Stark, King Eddard’s only living family member, takes the crown into his hands and looks at his eldest niece. “Who comes before the tree?” 

“I do. Sansa Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark.” Her voice doesn’t waver in the least. 

There’s a beat of silence as the head of every historical house rises from their seats. Mormont, Glover, Karstark, Reed, and Manderly. Together the men stand and hold their symbolic swords up in the air. 

“The Queen in the North!” Benjen bellows as Sansa bows her head for him to place the golden crown atop her hair. 

“The Queen in the North!” The men chant in response before the entire crowd rises and joins in. 

Sansa sits upon the throne and takes hold of the Stark sword and lays it across her lap, as she has practiced since she was a child. 

“Long may she reign.” Benjen steps to the right and stands beside her throne. 

Jon swallows thickly and says the words with the rest of the crowd, the rest of her _people_ , “Long may she reign.” 

Bells chime, the people cheer, and Sansa stares off into the crowd. Until her eyes meet him and Jon shudders at just how unmoving she is. There is no emotion playing across her face, just as her father had taught her. 

A vice squeezes his heart as he watches her blink and look away dutifully. 

Sansa Minisa Lyarra Stark, first of her name, kind of heart, protector of the people, Queen of Westeros.

-

Her sheets are twisted between them as she dozes on his bare chest. Jon absentmindedly combs his fingers through her red tresses as he watches her even breathing. Because of her close relations with the majority of her father’s right hand men, they’ve all stuck around. 

Jon remains private secretary for the crown of Westeros, only this time it's for the woman he’s in love with. There’s a twisting in his gut as he thinks of what Ned would say. Something sharp and hurtful while playing it off as if he’d just made a comment about the weather. 

Sansa has much of the same bite her father does but with a hint of ferocity that Ned lacked. It makes her a well respected monarch and one that is both feared and revered. She’s been on the throne for four months now and was quick to find her footing. 

Her ability to switch hats between being the Sansa in his arms to the Queen of Westeros is uncanny. It often leaves Jon feeling gutted. 

He feels her stir in his arms and he clings tighter to her still. 

“Mmm,” She buries her face in his chest and it makes his heart soar. “I have to pack.” 

“One more time.” Jon whispers and starts to lower his hands to her hips. Sansa explodes into a fit of giggles when he leans down to kiss her along her exposed neck. “One more.” 

“Anything for you,” Sansa sighs happily and rolls over for him. 

Jon lowers himself until his face is between her legs and looking up, “Anything?” 

Sansa kicks his back with her foot, “Don’t get greedy.” 

Jon licks between her legs until she’s whimpering in response. 

-

He’s known he was a fool since the first time he felt his cheeks turn pink just from Sansa’s presence. Jon started working for the Crown four years ago after he’d been in the courts for seven years and the army for another five. All in all, Jon was a proven patriot. 

Ned had picked him to be his assistant after meeting him at a charity gala for orphans in South Africa. The two of them just clicked. He’d usually agree with Ned’s opinions or public takes on hot topics and if he didn’t, he’d gently advise and Ned would adhere. 

Sansa couldn’t be anymore opposite. 

She saw things in ways both her father and Jon would never see. There were always layers for her and a whole different angle seeing as she was a woman. Jon never saw Ned have to work so hard at earning people’s respect while also ruling them. 

It wasn’t her fault, just age old sexism. Jon frowns when he sees how often other world leaders or officials stare a beat too long at her beauty. 

She’s skilled and intelligent, shamefully more so than Jon gives her credit for. Over the past months there have been several times she disagreed with Jon and did what she thought was best. Each time she had been right, which leaves Jon both proud and astounded. He begins to wholly trust her in her new role and believes in her as the true leader of Westeros. 

“It’s my duty.” Sansa in his arms is nowhere in sight, given way to tactful Queen Sansa. Her jaw is set as she places her hands on the table before her. Jon swallows down the ice in his throat as he watches her assistant Petyr Baelish nod along. 

“Torrhen is a decorated navy captain and Gawen is a well known lawyer with a lot of successful cases. Both pure bloodlines with good looks.” Catelyn, Queen Mother, lists Sansa’s prospects aloud. “There is no wrong answer when choosing from a northern house.” 

Sansa wordlessly stares at the assorted photographs of potential husbands and Jon tries his best to read her. There’s nothing given away on her placid face until Petyr interrupts. 

“I’m afraid I have news that may hinder this meeting pointless.” 

Her gaze hardens, “Do tell, Petyr.” 

A brief smirk appears on his face before sliding over an official document to the Queen. She opens it in haste and reads through it with narrowed eyes, a frown makes a home on her now, and it causes Jon to grow uneasy. 

“A Frey? You’re joking.” Sansa scoffs and tosses the paper to her mother. “Not only was I forced into this dehumanizing matchmaking meeting I’m now told there’s not even a choice to be made.” 

“I discovered it this morning ma’am, I do apologize.” Petyr explains himself and Sansa rolls her eyes. 

“Save it.” 

“How could Ned have done this….why?” Catelyn scours over the paper and Jon has no choice but to rise from his chair and look over her shoulder to see what’s written in print. 

  
  


“ _Sansa Minisa Lyarra Stark is due to wed a male Frey heir upon her reign as monarchy of Westeros. She will rule the country with a Frey husband by her side and he shall be named Prince. All of their children will be the heirs of the throne from thenceforth._

_Signed,_

_Eddard Brandon Beron Stark_

_King of Westeros”_

  
  


Jon glances at Sansa with widened eyes and doesn’t miss the way she flinches. 

She’s been engaged since before she was born. 

-

  
  


Tears soak through his shirt as he clutches her to his chest. Sansa weeps for the third time that night, and Jon fights not to join her. The betrayal stings her the most and she’s left drowning in self doubt at being blindsided by her dead father’s choice. There’s no explanation or any kind of reason as to why he chose Frey.

“Take me away.” Sansa pleads and Jon tries to laugh. 

“They’ll say it’s kidnapping.” Jon tries to joke. But he knows how to write a media story to spin what the royal family does. He’s done it way too many times to count for Arya and even a few for Sansa and her late father. Petyr would probably end up getting Jon thrown in jail. 

Sansa whimpers in his arms, “There’s only you Jon, only ever you.” 

That’s when Jon allows a tear to fall, but only when he knows she won’t see. 

-

They’re back in the Godswood Chapel, only this time Jon is in a tuxedo. He sits amongst his fellow peers who work alongside him for the family. Most notably and begrudgingly beside Petyr Baelish and Sam, the assistant private secretary, who holds up a wad of tissues. 

“I came prepared.” He offers one to Jon, who merely shakes his head in response.

As the ceremony begins, Jon’s hands begin to controllably shake. He sits on them to hide it and only manages to smile for Princess Arya as she leads the bridesmaids down the aisle. The rest of the time he spends staring at the altar and trying to count his breaths. 

The wedding march starts and the crowd rises, the heavy doors swing open, and then appears the beautiful bride in her white wedding gown. There’s not a hair out of place as she takes her Uncle Benjen’s arm and begins to walk down the aisle. 

The only thing missing is a smile. 

She’s careful not to meet his eye as she walks down and keeps her vision on the heart tree where she was just crowned Queen a little over a year ago. Her fiancé stands with his groomsmen and gives her a tight grin. 

George Frey is none too pleased about this arrangement either, and has been nothing more than polite to Sansa. There’s not an ounce of warmth to that man and it shows when he stiffly holds out his hand for Sansa’s to be placed in. 

Jon tries not to vomit when they begin their vows. He wrestles with tears as Princess Arya reads a poem. When the orchestra starts playing a song, one he always played for her, that’s when Jon feels his knees buckle. 

He falls just enough to bump into Petyr before catching himself and trying to steady his breath. As the priest announces Sansa Stark to be the wife of George Frey, the chorus breaks out into “Our Love Is Here to Stay.” 

Their song. 

His throat constricts while the bride and groom begin to walk down the aisle. Finally, Sansa looks at him, allowing her mask to slip just for him. Fear strikes true in her face as a few tears cloud her vision, and just like that, it’s over. George seems to adjust his grip on her hand and she fakes a smile to her new husband. 

“How terribly sad.” Petyr mumbles as he claps along with the crowd. Sansa and George are almost to the doors, “To watch the woman you love leave the party with another man.” 

Jon simply joins in on the clapping and fights the sob crawling up his throat. Sam reaches across, clueless, to offer a tissue. If only to hide his face for one moment, Jon takes it and tries his best at being as strong as Sansa. 

-

The first night home since her week long honeymoon and she’s back in his bed. Sansa Minisa Lyarra Frey Stark, Queen of Westeros, is naked below him as he thrusts inside of her. 

“Nobody but you.” Sansa chants and rakes her fingers down his spine. 

“Only you.” Jon whispers back and plants a kiss to her forehead. 

-  
  


Years later, Jon sits stiffly in a formal chair as he sips on his whiskey neat. The dinner in his honor winding down in the other room. He’s solemn in the sitting room surrounded by marvelous works of art. 

Twelve years as a private secretary, it’s almost unheard of. He takes a long sip of the golden liquor and thinks of grabbing another cigar when a familiar little voice starts singing. 

“One, two, three, four, five, once I caught a fish alive!” Little Eddie belts as he runs into the room, his dark hair cut short just yesterday, getting ready to start primary school in the next coming weeks. 

“Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,” Jon opens his arms and Eddie hops up into his lap. Together, they finish the silly song. “Then I threw it back again!” 

“Mommy wants me to go to bed.” He fusses and Jon gives him a tender squeeze. 

“Do as she says.” Jon ruffles his short locks and plants a kiss on the crown of his head. “Be a good boy.” 

“Never!” Eddie squirms away to take off towards the hall before George cuts him short. He bends down and scoops up his son into his arms and whispers something Jon can’t hear. Eddie deflates at his words and curls into his father’s arms briefly. When George sets him back down, Eddie calls out, “Night Jonny!” 

“Night Eddie!” Jon waves as the little boy sets off in a sprint out of sight. 

George straightens his navy uniform and the medals clang against one another as he steps closer into the room. Jon rises to his feet to bow to the Crown Prince of Westeros. There’s only a few low light lamps illuminating the space and his presence is almost daunting. Over the years, the two men had come to cohabitate. Neither one cared much for the other, but they both had a duty to Sansa so they kept it cordial. 

George nods at the cigar box before helping himself anyway. Jon fights a scoff and sits back in his chair. As George takes a seat beside him, Jon grants him direct eye contact. 

“Fancy dinner.” George notes and Jon hums in response. George clears his throat before adding, “I’m sure you’ve heard.” 

“What is that, George?” The small talk is always dismal between them. Jon prefers it when George ignores him all together. 

“Sansa is pregnant again.” George holds a cigar up to his lips and brings the lighter to it. As the flame engulfs the end, he looks right at Jon, “And this time I’m not so sure it’s yours.” 

  
  



	2. shiny

For three weeks, Sansa goes on a tour of a part of the Commonwealth. Visiting small towns and partaking in different festivals of assorted cultures. Jon doesn’t tag along for this tour, Sansa made it so, and he sees Sam in the background of several photos that make the newspaper. 

  
  


He sees the pictures of her face and scours it for any sign of truth to what George told him the night before Sansa left. Jon can only assume so. One thing Sansa can’t do is lie to him. She can own his heart and have his child but she can never pull off a fib. There’s been many a time she tried it and every time, Jon spots the tell tale signs. The squint to her left eye, the twiddling of her thumbs, and last but not least, the lip biting. 

  
  


Sansa is an awful liar. 

  
  


So when he is standing amongst the rest of the staff to welcome her back to the palace, he is quick to note her brief hello as opposed to the usual handshake. George isn’t there to greet her but that’s not all that out of the ordinary. It’s rare that the family greets one another when they return from their various tours. Jon had been the one to clear his flight to go visit his family earlier that morning anyways. 

  
  


The assorted staff begins to step away as Sansa ascends the stairs heading towards her office, but Jon takes the opportunity to follow without any tag alongs. It’s clear she was expecting him because as soon as he nears the doorway she calls out, “Get some tea first.” 

  
  


Jon doesn’t return until he has two cups of black tea, three lemons, four sugar cubes, and a splash of milk on a silver platter. There’s knowing looks shared amongst the kitchen maids and then the butlers as he weaves through the hallways and back to Sansa. He fucking hates when everyone can read him. 

  
  


A little heated from embarrassment and missing her, Jon shuts the door far too loudly behind him. Sansa’s personal butler, Hodor, flinches but she merely waves him away. “That’s enough for now, Hodor. Thank you.” 

  
  


“Ma’am.” Hodor bows and shoots Jon a concerning look. 

  
  


As soon as they’re alone Jon slams the tray on her desk. 

  
  


“Do calm down, Jon. There’s no need to make such a fuss.” Sansa hisses and clamors for the spilt tea. Jon huffs and goes around her desk to look at her closer. 

  
  


“You’re pregnant.” 

  
  


Sansa sucks in a breath and sighs, “George.” 

  
  


“Then you wave your little magic wand and ground me from speaking to you!” Jon seethes, “You’re unbelievable.” 

  
  


Sansa narrows her eyes, “No Jon, I had a tour to complete. Photos to take and hands to shake. A whole agenda that  _ you _ made up for me and one that I needed a level head for. I couldn’t have you in my ear the whole trip whispering to me about who was who in between scolding me for our personal business.” 

  
  


Jon opens his mouth to defend himself but quickly shuts it when she rises from her elegant emerald green chair. Sansa glares at him as she speaks her motto, “I’m not unbelievable Jon, I’m  _ the Queen _ .” 

  
  


“You’re the Queen who’s pregnant and didn’t tell your  _ private secretary _ .” Jon’s jaw ticks as he throws the technicalities back her way and Sansa shakes her head. 

  
  


“I’m the woman you love and didn’t tell you.” Sansa rubs at her eyes tiredly and Jon’s shoulders slump in defeat. 

  
  


“George knew.” Jon’s voice shakes just in the slightest and Sansa frowns.

  
  


“Because the little jerk noticed I wasn’t drinking wine and called me on a bluff. I had no idea he’d told you.” 

  
  


They stare for a moment, pulling and pushing, and it makes Jon’s stomach knot in that familiar way. There’s been countless times they’ve been here over the years and time after time, Jon chooses her anyways. Chooses to live in silence and love her from afar so long as she’s all his. 

  
  


All along, George made his deal with Sansa very clear. She kept Jon in quiet and he’d keep his love the same. They were married for the sake of their late fathers and the respect of their country. And as long as it took Jon to warm to him, George has come to care deeply for Sansa as well. He loves Jon’s son as his own and doesn’t hold an ounce of malice towards little Eddie or his legitimate father. 

  
  


But George wouldn’t fuck Sansa, couldn’t fuck her. He loved men and more specifically, Sansa’s personal butler. George and Hodor had been together since before the two royals were married. 

  
  


So that only left one man. Petyr Baelish. 

  
  


Sansa didn’t necessarily trust him, but she valued his word. There was a lot of family complications and history that made her keep him close. Petyr looked at Sansa as if she were something to hunt and hang on the wall. He’d seen the longing looks and lingering touches. All these years and Jon couldn’t find a way to get her to  _ see _ him. 

  
  


And now he gets it. 

  
  


“Is it Petyr?” Jon’s hands shake and Sansa’s jaw swings open. 

  
  


Ice freezes over her glare, “ _ Excuse  _ me?” 

  
  


“The baby.” Jon nods towards her nonexistent bump. And Sansa winds up her hand to give him one good slap, but Jon catches her arm. “No bullshit.” 

  
  


“Fuck you.” Sansa is practically spitting, “You’re the one who is unbelievable.” 

  
  


Jon grips onto her arm harder as she tries to break free. So she shoves him, pounds against his chest and the words fall out of her mouth like a river breaking a damn. “I didn’t tell you because I had been so careful. I didn’t want another baby you wouldn’t hold in your arms or meet at the hospital. I couldn’t go through this again. I can’t watch George name him and the men smoke celebratory cigars. I can’t! I can’t!” 

  
  


He catches her and holds her to him. 

  
  


There’s no right thing to say, because truth be told; he doesn’t think he can do it either. 

  
  


-

  
  


“We’re already late!” Sansa pretends to be irritated but Jon can see her sneaky smile. She’s just finished powdering her face. 

  
  


“Then what’s a few more minutes?” Jon quirks an eyebrow and Sansa feigns annoyance as he slides his hands up her stocking clad legs. Her blush skirt is gathered at her hips when he lowers to his knees and quirks an eyebrow, “Help me out?” 

  
  


She giggles and holds the fabric so he can slide her tights down. When he pushes her cotton panties aside, she gasps, and it’s all the encouragement Jon needs. Without another moment of teasing, he’s licking inside her. Her fingers grip tightly to the arms of the chair and Jon only licks harder, faster. 

  
  


Another noise slips from her tightly clenched teeth and Jon peers up to watch how unladylike she becomes when she’s grinding down on his tongue for more. She can never get enough and it makes him grow harder in his pants. Jon knows she’s close, he can get her in under 4 minutes and sometimes 2 if he’s been teasing her enough. 

  
  


For a brief moment he’s tempted to stretch this, to make her beg, but he’s all too aware that they’re needed and people will come looking soon. They’ll find their queen crying out with her private secretary between her legs. Jon groans at the thought and the sensation makes Sansa sigh his name in relief as she comes undone. Both his hands anchor her shaky legs before he pulls away and is yanking her pantyhose back up. 

  
  


“Ma’am.” Jon offers his hand and a cheeky grin. 

  
  


Sansa giggles as she swats at him before gratefully taking his hand and pulling herself up. “Now I think I can stomach this meeting.” 

  
  


Jon feels his smile fall but attempts to hide it by escorting her out of her bedroom and towards the hallway. As usual, they drop hands when they reach the portrait of her father, the irony never lost on him. 

  
  


They quickly switch gears and Jon begins listing off the upcoming events that will need rescheduling or cancelling, all with the taste of her on his tongue. Sansa nods along and begins to bicker over a ribbon cutting in Wintertown when they arrive at Petyr and Jon’s common area between their respective offices. 

  
  


If there weren’t two guards and a roaming butler, Jon would’ve brought her knuckles to his lips for a kiss. Instead, he pulls the door to the side and clears his throat. “Her Majesty, the Queen.” 

  
  


Petyr, the Queen Mother, and Sam all rise from their seats and bow briefly before returning to their respective chairs around the crafted table. Sansa takes her spot at the head of it, her mother and husband on either side. Sam wordlessly passes Jon a manila folder. Petyr nods towards Jon, “Mr. Snow?” 

  
  


Jon holds the folder in the air and points to it, “We’d like to congratulate her Majesty on the upcoming new royal family member, and also wish to give her options of interviews and press releases for the announcement.” Jon slides the folder towards Sansa and she gracefully plucks it from the table and opens its contents. 

  
  


“We’d like to beat any tabloids and encourage you to do a specialized televised event with both your son and husband involved.” Jon rattles on about what Petyr, Sam, and he had already brainstormed and organized. It wasn’t until he was done with the rather rehearsed spiel that he noted it was rather odd for the Queen mother to be present for this run of the mill press briefing.

  
  


His eyes cut from Catelyn to her daughter and Jon’s stomach falls. Sansa’s face is hardened stone as she scours through the contents of the papers inside. Petyr clears his throat, “Take a seat.” 

  
  


Jon blinks slowly and straightens his spine in response. When Petyr has the nerve to narrow his eyes, Jon cocks his head in response. “What?” He bites out. 

  
  


“Ma’am?” Petyr prompts her to pass the folder back. When Jon looks, it’s photos of the back of his head. Side profiles of the two of them. Assorted proof of their love affair. Holding hands, secret embraces, and stolen kisses. It feels like Jon swallowed a hot rod as he scans through all the evidence laid out so plainly before him.

  
  


“These are yet to be public.” Petyr starts and Jon stares blankly at him. “How long before people catch on? Before the people know that their Queen isn’t loyal to her husband and therefore, how can she be loyal to her country?” 

  
  


Jon practically lunges across the table and braces both hands on the table, “ _Baelish_!” 

  
  


“When our country is almost at war with another over borders and trade, how are the people going to look at their cheating monarch and feel comfort? How will things feel stable when their own leader isn’t sure who—“ 

  
  


“Are you finished?” Sansa commands. 

  
  


Petyr and Jon quit their glare off to look at her. Sansa is the picture of poise, her face level and eyes clear. “Are these being sent off? Are we doing damage control?” 

  
  


Sam interjects softly, “No.”

  
  


Sansa’s jaw tightens, “Then what are you getting at?” 

  
  


There’s a pause as Petyr undoubtedly calculates how he is going to lay everything out. Some kind of trade or sick trick he’s been working at the major reveal for. Jon seethes in his dress shoes and opens his mouth for a slew of unprofessional language when Catelyn Stark, Queen Mother, sighs. 

  
  


“This is over.” Catelyn folds her hands together. “We could look the other way when the economy was straight and you still held your husband’s hand in public. This is too great a risk for us all, Sansa, you cannot put this above the crown and your country.” 

  
  


Jon can hear Sansa swallow and take a breath but Catelyn only continues. 

  
  


“It’s over.” She cuts her eyes to Jon and adds a thousand degree heat to her glare. It makes Jon sink into his seat. 

  
  


Sam reaches over and takes the folder. “This will be destroyed, but the original files still exist. They are not public nor will they be. We urge you to stop communicating in an effort to protect the crown.” 

  
  


Petyr is smart enough to swallow his smirk, but Jon can read it all in his eyes. “Your resignation is mandatory and the announcement will go live tomorrow. The Queen will pick a new secretary in two days time. The pregnancy will be announced the following day and life will go on as usual.” 

  
  


As usual. 

  
  


Sansa rises from her chair and everyone follows. “Thank you.” 

  
  


Together they bow to the Queen and keep their heads low for the Queen Mother’s exit as well. When all that’s left is the men in the room, Sam won’t even meet Jon’s eyes. 

  
  


Jon points at Petyr. “You fucking snake.” 

  
  


“Next time you get a member of the royal family pregnant with your bastard, try not sneaking in a family name.” Petyr nods and dismisses himself from the room. 

  
  


Sam holds up Prince Eddard’s birth certificate with his second middle name on display. “Eddard Robert Jon Stark” read in bold ink across the piece of legal paper. 

  
  


“Where…?” Jon holds his hand out and Sam hands it to him gently.

  
  


“The Queen Mother caught you all at your birthday dinner a few months ago. Saw the way Sansa placed a hand on your shoulder after a toast and she’s been gathering evidence since.” Sam sighs. “I’m sorry.”

  
  


“Me too.” Betrayal calls tears to his eyes, but Jon grapples with his dignity and chooses to leave before Sam can explain anymore. 

  
  


It’s not like any of it matters now.

  
  


-

  
  


The mess of Jon’s life is packed in boxes strewn about the cottage he’s resided in for years. Even when King Eddard promoted him, he insisted on staying in the humble and homely cottage estate about a half mile away from Winterfell Castle. He now sits on the front stoop with a half smoked cigarette between his fingers as he waits for a truck to load his belongings into. 

  
  


Beside him the headline, “Baby Number Two for Royal Family. Happiness Due for the North.” Reads in bold print across the paper. A photograph with Sansa holding their son in her lap and George’s hand placed valiantly on her shoulder as he stands beside her seated in her emerald chair companies the article. They emulate all that is bright and happy, a perfect image of dignity and royalty. A vice grips his chest and he shoves the paper aside to be out of view. 

  
  


Jon brings the cigarette up to his mouth and takes a long pull just as a familiar black car pulls into view. He freezes mid drag and watches it carefully pull forward until coming to a stop. George sits in the front seat and makes eye contact the moment he opens his door. Jon chucks the cigarette and rises to his feet. He doesn’t bow and George doesn’t seem to notice let alone care. 

  
  


“Jon.” He walks up and stops right before him. They don’t shake hands or hug, but Jon knows this is the equivalent of both to George. Jon nods, “George.” 

  
  


“Eddie is on the way. I wanted to speak to you first.” George looks behind him and then back to his wife’s lover. “I…I didn’t want it to be this way.” 

  
  


Jon only stares in response and it makes George crack. His eyes grow misty as he presses on. “I was trying to keep the snakes at bay. I thought that if there was anyway you thought she’d been unfaithful, you’d leave. It’d protect you and her. But...she’d never do that to you, would she? There was never a shadow of a doubt.” 

  
  


Jon swallows and looks away briefly, tries to process what is being said. 

  
  


“I was only trying to protect us all.” George wipes at his eyes in disdain and sniffles. “I’m sorry.” 

  
  


“Thank you.” Jon clears his throat and repeats it once George is looking him dead in the face, “Thank you, George. Truly.” 

  
  


George sighs as the other black car pulls up and he sticks a hand out. “I’ll be seeing you.” Jon isn’t so sure, but he nods along to the man’s words and shakes his hand nonetheless. 

  
  


As they let go, little Eddie comes pouring out of the car that has pulled up. He squeals at the sight of his two favorite men and George gives him a brief squeeze before passing him to Jon. “Now Eddie, remember what Daddy and Mummy told you about Jonny?” 

  
  


“You’re going bye bye for a while?” Eddie looks up at Jon as he throws his arms up to be held. Jon scoops him, kisses him, and nods. 

  
  


“Just for a little while. But I’ll see you soon and you’ll be a good boy, right?” Jon chokes on a sob and tries to smile. Eddie’s face grows worried and Jon gives him another kiss to hide his own face. 

  
  


“Never ever!” Eddie sort of whispers and it takes everything in Jon not to fall apart. He pulls back to give him a smile and another squeeze. “Bye for now Eddie.” 

  
  


George grabs hold of Eddie and has to pull him from Jon’s arms. “Bye Jonny!” He calls and begins to cry. 

  
  


Jon looks away and goes inside to keep his son from seeing him sob. 

  
  


There has to be a way to make his words be true. He has to keep Sansa safe and see Eddie soon. 


	3. glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drama, drama, drama

The first visitor of Jon’s new place is someone he isn’t really that surprised by. Hodor towers by the front bay window and his giant hands fumble with the cup of tea Jon has shared. They step around a few remaining boxes until finding their own respective spots on the couch. Together they take a few silent sips of tea and simmer in unsaid words. 

  
  


“It’s lovely here.” Hodor manages after a thoughtful glance around the room. 

  
  


Jon hums politely and sets his tea down on the coffee table before them. “Thank you. How are you doing?” 

  
  


After all these years, Jon and Hodor had never really gotten that personal. So he’s taken aback when Hodor’s demeanor melts into despair. “Oh, Jon.” 

  
  


“You don’t have to make me feel better.” Jon picks at an imaginary lint on his pant leg. 

  
  


“No sir. I’d never.” Hodor chews on his bottom lip. “Things are…different. Heavy. There’s an overwhelming sense of loss around the castle.” 

  
  


Jon frowns and looks out the window of his two bedroom terraced house and tries not to let it get to him. When he doesn’t respond, Hodor continues, “She misses you. We miss you.” 

  
  


Jon picks his tea back up and takes a short sip. “I’m sorry for any sort of pain or discomfort this has brought you Hodor. Truly.” 

  
  


Hodor turns and looks at Jon with a twisted sort of scoff, “Of course.” He reaches in his jacket and pulls out an envelope, causing Jon’s breath to catch. “This is for you.”

  
  


Jon fiddles with his cup before reaching over and hesitantly grabbing the letter. His name is written in familiar font and he tries to not shake as he places it in his own coat pocket.

  
  


Sansa hadn’t spoken to him since the meeting, understandably so. It was Jon’s choice to be second to the crown. He’d spent years and years doing so. He watched the love of his life marry someone else for Christ sake, yet this was something new entirely. So far, Jon has been unable to piece together how and why he was cut out. Why she’s left him in radio silence for the past three weeks. 

  
  


“Thanks for having me.” Hodor whispers and rises to his feet. After he gently places his full cup of tea onto the coffee table, he gives Jon a sad smile. “We’ll be in touch. Lovely tea.” 

  
  


When the front door closes, Jon scrambles. He fumbles with the papers and almost spills his tea over the carpet. The envelope is ripped open by his eager hands and when he withdraws it’s contents, Jon gets bleary eyed at her handwriting. 

  
  


He unfolds it and it reads: 

“ _ J,  _

_ I’m yours forever. Nothing has or will ever change that. I love you.  _

_ S.” _

  
  
  


Jon exhales through his nose and slams the letter to the coffee table. He does so again and again until eventually he’s just pounding against it. Over and over his hand rails against the wood with only the handwritten note to buffer the blows. He hits it until he feels his fingers go numb and sees red. Blood decorates the fancy white parchment, and Jon tosses it to the floor and goes to the kitchen for a beer. 

  
-

It’s six weeks before he can finally touch pen to a piece of paper, and even then he can’t force the words to come to him. How can he express how he feels when he himself isn’t quite sure? Jon goes to the lawyer firm, where Sansa made him partner, comes home and eats a freezer meal before punching out more work until his eyes can’t stay open anymore. 

  
  


Pyp, his partner at the firm, is a kind and hardworking man. They work well together and have been very successful thus far. Which only makes him grow more angry with Sansa. She knows him too well. 

  
  


The season turns from summer to fall, you can smell the scent of decaying leaves around Jon’s new hometown. Trees have begun to change color when he hears a knock on his front door. He knows who it is before he even opens it. 

  
  


“Hello.” She’s brisk and brief as she stands with a silk scarf wrapped elegantly around her head to help conceal her telltale red tresses. There’s giant cartoon-like sunglasses also obscuring her face, but Jon can imagine the look she’s giving him. So he steps aside and nods his head at the secret officer lingering by his mailbox. 

  
  


When he closes the door, Sansa rips the glasses from her face and begins to unravel her scarf. Jon motions with his hand towards his kitchen and Sansa steps aside to follow his lead. Wordlessly, Jon sets the kettle on a freshly lit burner and pulls down the tea and sugar. 

  
  


“You don’t have anything to say?” Sansa snips. Jon puts the items carefully on the counter before giving her his full attention. He can’t bury the obvious rage on his face. “Hello.” 

  
  


Sansa swallows thickly before speaking again, “I haven’t seen you in almost two months and you don’t even say hello.” 

  
  


“I said hello.” Jon quips and Sansa’s eyes narrow. 

  
  


She glances around wistfully and then helps herself to a chair at his kitchen table. Once she’s sat she looks at him once more, “I just wanted to see how you are. I wanted to...to see you.” 

  
  


“Here I am.” Jon shrugs and the tea kettle roars it’s readiness. He uses it as an excuse to look away from her hurt face. There’s little joy to be taken from being mean to her. 

  
  


Sansa audibly gasps and it causes Jon to drop the kettle right back on the burner to see. In her hand are the five notes Hodor had delivered and Jon had not opened. Her hands begin to shake and she rises to her feet as she shoves them towards his face, “How could you?” 

  
  


Jon’s face sours, “How could  _ I? _ Tell me how could I read the notes from the woman who tossed me out like last week’s garbage? How could I not bring myself to read whatever little sweet nothing she could muster to help her rid her guilt.”

  
  


The kettle screeches once more since being left on the hot burner. He takes it off in a haste and slams it to the counter. 

  
  


She throws the envelopes to the floor and jabs a finger at him. “What was I supposed to do?”

  
  


“Not this!” Jon gestures to his new home, “Get me some fancy fucking job with my house all picked out and ready to be moved. This whole little cover up you very obviously had set up for YEARS in advance. Some kind of back up plan you didn’t fill me in on. Do you know how fucking sick this is?” 

  
  


Sansa pushes her lower lip out and begins to sob. Uncontrollable, gut wrenching, cries wrack her body painfully and she has no choice but to fall back into the chair she had just sat in. Jon softens at her pain, and he crosses the kitchen floor to place a hesitant hand on her shoulder. It only makes her cry louder.

  
  


She carries on for several more minutes before reigning it in and wiping at her mascara tracks running down her cheeks. Sansa sniffs, “I can’t win.” 

  
  


“There is no winning.” Jon adds as he pulls his hand back, it shakes uncontrollably and he clenches his fist to try to get it to quit.

  
  


Sansa unzips her periwinkle coat and sits back. Her rounded belly protrudes clearly through her matching dress. His breath catches in his throat at the sight and she crosses her hands in a lame attempt to hide her bump. “I’m not trying to be cheap, I’m just so damn hot.” 

  
  


She’d been the same when she carried Eddie. 

  
  


Jon turns and grabs her a glass of water. When he passes it to her, she’s already put her jacket back on. After throwing a huge fit, she’s now the perfectly posed woman he’s seen many a time. A mask she hides behind so well, so expertly, that it breaks his heart to pass her the glass and see her politely take it from his grasp. She even adds an eloquent thank you.

  
  


“Do you still love me?” Jon whispers so quietly he’s not even sure if he said the words at all. 

  
  


Sansa looks him square in the eye, “Always have, always will.” 

  
  


“Then why?” Jon motions to his house. 

  
  


“How can I choose between the man I love and the country I was born and raised to serve?” Sansa’s eyes fill with tears once more. “They were onto us, the gossip columns. My mother was protecting us. You know how much she adores you.” 

  
  


Jon scoffs and drops into the chair closest to Sansa. She clears her throat, “I think the real question is, do you love  _ me _ ?” 

  
  


Her face is rounded from the extra weight of carrying his second child. Jon thinks of his son, set to sit on the very thrown his mother currently is, and feels tears pool his own vision. How could he let this be? Why did they believe all of this would be worth it? Nothing but closed doors and painful secrets. They’ve been selfish, foolish, and downright stupid. There’s a pleading in her bright eyes that lends him the courage to give her the answer that’ll both protect them and set them both free. 

  
  


“No.” He leans back in the chair. “Not anymore.” 

  
  


Sansa draws a sharp breath and stands immediately. “You don’t mean it.” 

  
  


Jon looks at her swollen belly, big with his child he’ll never hold, then to her, “I have to.” 

  
  


She grabs her scarf and runs from the room, his house she picked, and back to her car. Off to return to her palace with her husband, family, and both of their children.

  
-

Days turn to months which lend themselves to years. Jon works hard at his job and becomes very successful alongside Pyp. He’s introduced to Pyp’s sister Alys at a Christmas party and together they date for years. A comfortable place is found between the two, built stone by stone, wholly trusting and caring for the other. 

  
  


There are no closed doors or secrets. The day before Jon asks Alys to move in with him, he tells her of his first love. She listens without a word and when he finishes, she kisses him and says he never has to speak of it again if he chooses not to. 

  
  


He chooses not to. 

  
  


Alys moves into his home and together they care for one another and treat each other with respect. It’s hardly a whirlwind romance, but it provides Jon peace after so many years of heartache. He never proposes and she never asks him to. Alys is unable to have children and when Jon asks about adoption, Alys shoots it down by insisting that she’s perfectly happy with it being just the two of them. 

  
  


They’re together for 8 years when she tells him what the doctor said. “It’ll be very quick.” She told him through tears. Jon held her hand until the end. 

  
  


He works with his partner at the firm for five more years before Pyp retires. And then Jon runs it solo for two years, until he stops to look in the mirror one morning. His hair has scattered gray streaks, brown eyes watery and tired, and his face is far from happy. So he passes the firm on, gives it to two promising young attorneys and hits the road. 

  
  


Jon sees Westeros for the first time, truly. Not in a private jet or in assorted meetings with world leaders, but for its local cuisine and music. He drinks rum in Dorne, has the best fish in the Riverlands, and the most decadent mutton in the Reach. For the first time he lives fearlessly and without any thought of tomorrow. 

  
  


He only returns to his cottage when he’s sure no one will pester him for a farewell party at work. After four months of travel, he comes back to his place with a tan and a few extra shirts. He turns the television on for background noise and settles for a crossword puzzle when he hears the signal for an emergency message. 

  
  


The TV automatically switches to an urgent message, a press release with the Prime Minister at a pedestal. “Prince George has had a severe heart attack. He’s been rushed to the hospital and will be receiving the best care possible. Please keep him and his family in your thoughts and prayers. Thank you.” 

  
  


Jon’s hand shakes when he raises the remote to switch it off. 

  
-

  
  


_ S _

_ “I’m so sorry.”  _

_ J _

  
  


Jon licks the envelope closed and drops it on Hodor’s doorstep alongside a bouquet of flowers addressed to the man. 

  
  


_ Hodor- _

_ My fellow secret. Thinking of you. Thank you. _

_ Best, _

_ Jon _

-  
  


A week later, Jon goes for a jog. His feet slam to the ground with every painful memory racing through his mind. George holding Sansa’s hand in the chapel on their wedding day, all the public kisses, holding Eddie for the first time, and naming Jon’s daughter after his own mother. Jon had watched Roslin, Rosie, grow up through the media. He thinks of his children mourning their father and runs faster. 

  
  


When he can no longer breathe, that’s when he stops, at the end of the cliff where a valley rests below. Jon falls to his knees and lets out an animalistic scream. Hand over fist, he claws and bangs at the green grass and yells with every thrash.

  
  


He mourns for the man who got to do everything he wanted, and who did a great job at it. A man that he’s so sorry is no longer here.

  
  


Jon walks home, slowly, and takes note of all the scenery surrounding him. The green leaves, lovely flowers, and families walking about. He sees neighbors and even spots his dentist. It’s been 10 years since he’s relocated, he’s now a ripe age of 58, and has made a life with the bones Sansa passed to him.

  
  


The sun shines and Jon feels grateful for life.

  
  


As he rounds the corner to his home, he sees the black car and runs against his better judgement. He’s still recovering from his freak out when he speeds down his street and up his path to his front door. When he swings it open, his chest heaves, and he struggles to catch his breath. 

  
  


There, in his living room, sits Queen Sansa of Westeros, in a black tea dress. 

  
  


“Sansa.” Jon sputters and Sansa pulls back her shades to reveal her puffy eyes. 

  
  


“Oh Sansa.” Jon opens his sweaty arms and she runs to him, clings to him, and cries in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay.” 

  
  


Sansa sobs and chokes on an apology. Jon merely shushes her and brings her to the couch so they can both have a stable support beneath their feet. It’s been ten years since he’s held her, and he’s not letting go now. 

  
  


She meets his eyes to say, “Come to the palace.”

  
  


“What?” Jon gasps as he studies her aged face. Still as beautiful as ever, even tear stained and blotchy, she’s an absolute vision. Nothing has changed for Jon. Nothing. 

  
  


“Be with me.” Sansa pleads, “I completed my father’s wish.” 

  
  


Jon shakes his head, “It’s not that easy.” 

  
  


Tears run down her cheeks, “It is. It is, Jon. I need you, I love you.” 

  
  


Jon grips onto her hands and feels her royal jewels dig into his skin. “I can’t be Prince. You can’t marry a common born man like me.” 

  
  


“I can.” Sansa struggles with words, “I can adjust it, I can make it happen, please!” 

  
  


Jon drops her hands to grip her face. “And what, Sansa? Move in with you and George’s children?” 

  
  


Sansa places a hand over his, “Your babies. Eddard Robert Jon and Roslin Minisa Lyanna.  _ Your _ babies.”

  
  


They kiss and Jon is drowning with no need for air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story comes to a close, I feel happy to be writing and thankful to share it with you all. ANYWAYS enough with the corny. I hope you enjoyed!!


	4. golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YOU’RE SO GOLDEN, DADADADA DADADADA

The look in Eddie’s eyes guts Jon like a proudly caught bass. His grown son looks at him with the burning hatred of a thousand suns and it causes his heart to singe. Jon swallows thickly from where he’s standing directly above Sansa and Eddie seated on a fancy sofa in a sitting room. 

  
  


“I know I haven’t been a father to you—“ Jon is cut short by Eddie’s flinch. 

  
  


“You’re not my father. My father was buried a month ago.” Now his acidic gaze focuses in on his mother. “The man  _ you _ were unfaithful to.” 

Sansa opens her mouth and furrows her brow but then closes herself off just as quickly, emotion devoid from her careful face. “I understand you’re upset. I just wanted you to know the truth.” 

  
  


Eddie scoffs. “The truth that you’re a liar and a cheat?” 

  
  


Jon squares his shoulders and Sansa, still knowing him all too well, shoots him a look to shut him up. 

  
  


“We’ll leave you to it then.” Sansa places a hand on his shoulder that Eddie shakes off hastily. Now it’s Sansa’s turn to wince, but she recovers rapidly and is rising from her seat. “I love you, Eddie boy.” 

  
  


Eddie wipes at a fallen tear and stares out past the two of them, glaring out the windows overseeing the lovely garden grounds. Sansa takes it as the dismissal it is and grabs Jon’s hand on the way out. He squeezes it reassuringly, trying to let her know he still loves her, admires her, but her limp fingers show him yet again that it might not be enough. 

  
  


He swallows the panic and allows her to lead him to the spare bedroom he arrived in the night before. 

  
-

They make small talk over breakfast the next day. It’s hard to miss the way she avoids his eye or how she talks so fast about things that don’t matter just to fill the silence. He wishes he could make it better. 

  
  


He can make it better. 

  
  


And he tries to the moment she leaves him to his own devices. Jon grabs a telephone and he rings up the royal cab service. 

-

The small bag he’d brought two days ago sits at his feet as he waits silently by the grand foyer entrance. It’s then that he sees Princess Roslin for the first time up close. 

  
  


She’s the spitting image of him. 

  
  


Long raven curls shine under the chandelier, her grey blue eyes twinkle in delight as she waves to what must be a trusted and familiar wait staff, and the way her shoulders stand proud remind him painstakingly of his younger self so much so that he holds a bated breath. He stares at his grown daughter for far too long and before he knows it, she’s staring back in return. 

  
  


Roslin crosses the room and stands in front of him with a chin held high. “Hello.” She sticks a hand out and he hops to his feet to do the proper royal protocol. Jon bows low after taking her hand, “Princess.” 

  
  


Roslin snickers and pulls her hand back. “So you’re my maker, huh?” 

  
  


Jon’s eyes widen in surprise and then he opens his mouth to defend himself. He’s not sure where he wants to go but he stops himself before he can fuck anything else up by simply shrugging. Perfectly ambiguous in his opinion. 

  
  


“So I’ve heard.” Roslin pulls her hand back and looks at the suitcase by his feet. Her lips form a firm line briefly before she looks over her shoulder. “Have you seen Hodor?” 

  
  


Jon shakes his head quickly because he, in fact, hasn’t seen his dear friend since arriving at the palace. Roslin chews at her lip in thought, just like her mother, and nods at the suitcase. “Give it another day. This family has a flare for the dramatics, as I’m sure you’re all too aware.” 

  
  


Jon quirks an eyebrow and Roslin silently nods at the wall behind him. He turns slowly to see a collaged wall of framed photographs. They’re all of the Stark family through the generations. Riding horses, dancing at balls, attending birthday celebrations with balloons and laughter. It’s an oddly personal display at such a public place in the palace. But his chest tightens at his own appearance littered throughout. 

  
  


Standing side by side with Ned at a ribbon cutting for a community garden, a few in the background at assorted balls, and finally; one of himself, Sansa, George, and Hodor. It’d been taken on the night of the dinner in his honor where George shared Sansa’s pregnancy news with the very young lady standing before him. In the photo they’re smiling so broadly, all the men pictured clearly having had a few, and Hodor has an arm wrapped lovingly across George’s shoulder. George leans into the man’s touch, and if you’re looking for it, you can see the electricity and joy between the two men. 

  
  


Jon looks back at Roslin to see her staring at the very same photograph and then smirks at him. “Of all the things my Dad was, a good secret keeper was not one of them. He was as honest as they come.” 

  
  


A fond smile spreads across Jon’s face and he nods in agreeance. That was a common denominator between both Ned and George, honest to a fault. Although endearing, it came to bite them in the ass way too many times to count.

  
  


“One more day.” Roslin insists and then there’s that twinkle in her eye again, “Nice to finally meet you. They weren’t lying when they said we look alike.” And just like that she’s heading back towards the staircase, leaving Jon gaping after her. 

  
  


-

There’s smoke billowing from Sansa’s forbidden cigarette. Jon hasn’t seen her smoke one since she was young, back when they were still considered healthy, and even then her mother had insisted she quit. Wasn’t becomely as a lady, let alone the queen. Right now, Sansa doesn’t look like either. She’s a stressed out mom with no control and it has her clearly on edge. 

  
  


Jon pulls a chair closer to sit beside her on the balcony. The sun has begun to sink towards the horizon, illuminating all the greenery and each other in a golden light. She gives him a small smile that makes his heart ache. This is what parenting together would’ve been like. He’s so grateful to share this with her. 

  
  


He wordlessly takes a cigarette for himself. Just like for her, it’s been years, and the burn is welcome and familiar in his chest. Together they smoke in a heavy silence as the mull over his return to the palace. This was going about as well as Jon predicted, but Sansa is clearly hurt at the result. 

  
  


“I’ll always love you, you know?” Jon offers and she jolts to look at him. “No matter what.” 

  
  


“I’m not saying goodbye.” Sansa flicks her cigarette. “Not again.” 

  
  


Jon blinks slowly and takes another sharp inhale of his cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. The French doors swing open and both Eddie and Roslin burst through. Together the two of them strut over with crossed arms and different expressions. Eddie looks somewhat defeated while Roslin almost seems smug. 

  
  


“Hello darlings.” Sansa hurriedly tries to put out her cigarette. She’s frantic to hide the evidence and it makes Eddie crack a reluctant yet sneaky smile. Jon chuckles under his breath as he just sticks his own cigarette to rest between his teeth. 

  
  


Roslin holds up a sizable stack of envelopes and papers and gestures towards her older brother. “Showed these to Ed.” She then hands them over to Sansa’s eager hands. As soon as she can see what’s on the page, she gasps, and literally clutches her pearls. Her eyes pour over the pages and she flips between envelope and paper. Jon can’t read any of it but can clearly tell it’s all handwritten. 

  
  


Eddie looks at Jon, “Handwritten notes between my father and Hodor, mummy’s butler.”

  
  


It’s the first time Eddie has looked at him without disdain, and it makes him delicately pull the cigarette from his mouth. He holds a hand out to be passed a random letter. 

_ My dear, dear H, _

_ I long for a walk with you. To feel your fingers intertwined with my own. The thought of your smile is the only thing that’s getting me through this trip. I’m constantly thinking of your mouth— _

Jon stops himself from reading the rest, for privacy’s sake, and hands it back to a bleary eyed Sansa. A few tears run their course down her cheeks before they both look to their children. Roslin has a few tears as well as she explains, “When I was just a little girl, I’d seen Daddy kiss Hodor. He told me it was what friends do. When I was older I saw them holding hands in the kitchens, late at night, when they thought no one was around. You can’t mistake the way they looked at each other as the way friends look at each other.” 

  
  


Eddie wipes at his cheeks and sniffles, “I’d never paid enough attention.” 

  
  


Roslin smiles softly, “Hodor looked at Daddy the way Jon looks at you, Mummy. It all makes sense.” 

  
  


Sansa lets a sob go and clings to her kids, the three of them crying for more reasons than Jon can name, and he remains in his chair. An outsider to a personal family revelation. Until Eddie drops one arm from his Mum to beckon him over. 

  
  


Jon joins the hug and feels himself fall apart amongst them. Together, they weep and cry, and when they pull apart they are welded with a mutual understanding. If they were anybody else, they’d have had this all along, but alas they are not. They are of the royal house Stark, destined to rule Westeros and put that first always. 

  
  


The future is uncertain, but there is one thing that Jon is absolutely sure of. He’s never saying goodbye again. 

-

It’s pouring rain when they meet under the heart tree. Thunder cracks when they kiss and they run as fast as their tired feet can carry them down the aisle. Rain pelts their fancy formalwear as they race down the stone steps of the chapel. 

  
  


Eddie and Roslin stand at the top with beaming grins, together they wave frantically, and Roslin blows kisses. Both have their significant others in attendance and it makes both Jon and Sansa so proud to see their children dressed up in their royal wear. 

  
  


Jon opens the door for Sansa to climb into the carriage only for her to kiss his cheek instead and throw her head back in laughter. He’s never seen her look more beautiful. Together, they climb into the horse drawn carriage and wave goodbye to their family, the crowds, and spectators. 

  
  


Their song “Our Love is Here to Stay” is played loudly by the orchestra from the stairs of Godswood Chapel. It fades along with the cheering crowds the further they ride away and into their new life together. 

-

The honeymoon is far from golden. Paps constantly fly and drive by their island escape. They try their best to ignore it, though some days their mood falters from the shouts and clicks of stranger’s cameras. 

  
  


_ “Queen of the Whores.” _

_ “Another suitor, another day for Queen Sansa.” _

_ “Black Widow catches another in her web of lies.” _

  
  


The headlines read like punches from a schoolyard bully. Although Sansa pretends to not be bothered, he kisses her a little harder for support. She’s stronger than he often gives her credit for but she constantly reminds him so in all her words and actions. 

  
  


After all, she was the one who talked the Primeminister and the courts to adjust the law that allowed them to marry. It’s unbelievable to feel their fingers intertwined as they walk along the beaches. No more secrets, no more lies. 

  
  


“I love you.” She kisses his brow and passes him a freshly brewed cup of coffee. He could stay like this forever. 

  
  


-

They watch the headlines fade and become more neutral over the years. Then, positive. The press can’t get enough of the Queen’s new love life. Probably because after years of quiet, they can’t keep their hands off one another or stop themselves from singing each other’s praises. 

  
  


Jon joins a rugby club, although much too old to play, he’s reunited with old buddies from a lifetime ago. They do charity work for cancer research in Alys’ name. 

  
  


Sansa continues a successful reign over her people, leading them through economic crashes, a war, and the reorganization of worker unions. Although it’s not easy work, she makes it appear effortless, something that Eddie promises to carry on in the future. 

  
  


He doesn’t explicitly say what that means, but when he starts promising those sort of things to his mum it makes Jon’s stomach swoop. It isn’t long before Roslin is joining in. 

  
  


It’s Jon and Sansa’s 20 year wedding anniversary dinner when he finally sees why the kids have been reassuring her. Roslin, Eddie, their spouses, and children have all gone to their respective homes after the party. Jon has finished changing to pajamas and approaches Sansa staring blankly at herself in her vanity. 

  
  


Jon braces himself for her to ramble on about how old she is and begin nagging him for being with an old broad like her. He feels like a shard of glass stabs his chest when he finally recognizes the emptiness in her gaze as fear in her eyes. “Honey? You alright?” 

  
  


“I just...I forgot what I was doing.” Sansa’s hands shake as she reaches for her face powder. Jon reaches out to soothe her anguish. He runs his worn thumbs across her silken, veiny hands and brings them to his lips. “You wipe your makeup off and brush your hair.” 

  
  


Sansa blinks and still looks dazed, so Jon grabs the washcloth and does it himself. He wipes the powder, eye make up, and lipstick from her frightened face. Then delicately brushes her shirt, gray hair until it’s smooth and hangs glamorously from her head. She comes back to him then. Sansa grabs his forearm and kisses his hand thoughtfully before rising from her seat to head to bed with him. 

  
  


This goes on for another two weeks before he comes clean to the royal doctors. 

  
  


Two years they say. Maybe longer. 

  
  


Jon tries to hide his tears from her as best he can. 

-

It could’ve been the cigarettes or the heartbreak, but one thing is for sure: Sansa and Jon were put on this earth to find one another and be together. Since their marriage there was never one without the other. So it only made sense for Jon to pass hours after Sansa’s own death. 

  
  


The bells ring in mourning from the chapel where Jon once watched her marry another man, where their children he was unable to raise were baptized, and where they finally became one. They lived their golden years in true happiness and love, something Eddie and Roslin were quick to acknowledge and respect. 

  
  


Both Eddie and Roslin named their own children after their biological dad and the man and dad who raised them. Their parents have separate ceremonies in the Godswood Chapel, where their own children were baptized, and Eddard is later crowned King. 

  
  


The Stark line will forever live on. The people cheer for it as the crown from his mother’s head is placed upon Eddie’s. Years pass, life goes on and always changes, but the story of Jon and Sansa’s true love lives forever. 

  
  


It’s how Roslin married a commoner who gave her three beautiful babies and Eddie’s second child is able to leave her royal highness duties to become a biologist. Anything is possible when it stems from love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I know it was kinda bittersweet but they were a family in the end❤️


End file.
